Snowboarding: A Relative Success

I'll start one year ago.  My company had a sponsored ski trip up to Sugarloaf in Maine.  M3 and I decide to give snowboarding a shot.  She's snowboarded a few times before, but not regularly enough that she's really that comfortable with it.  I had tired once before, in college, and spent most of the time on my butt or knees and frustrated.  (The then-boyfriend knew what he was doing and possibly could have been a little more patient.)  In the end, I was stubborn - I know the theory behind snowboarding, so it's just a case of getting my body to follow.  Saturday morning, we wake up, get ready, get some breakfast, get our gear...  And hit the slopes!  ... For approximately five seconds.  Not even exaggerating.  I fell badly.  My back was killing me; I lay face-down in the snow till I could bear to move, at which point M3 helped me back to the lodge, then back to our condo, where I barely moved from the couch for the rest of the day.  Two days later, I went to a trade show in NYC for Monday and Tuesday (read: was on my feet all day.)  When I returned to Boston, I was still in a lot of pain and decided possibly it may be a good idea to see a doctor.  Verdict: Compression fracture.  Which made me feel much more justified in all the complaining that I was doing!

Needless to say, the idea of repeating this made me a little nervous.

But, back to Sugarloaf we went.  I had declared ahead of time that I was not going anywhere Friday night - I was already nervous enough, I wasn't going to risk being hungover at all.  Luckily, much of my condo was on the same page.  We made dinner, had some drinks, played some Apples to Apples...  And I was in bed pre-midnight.

Saturday was the big day.  The conditions were pretty miserable - icy and windy - but it was our one chance.  And, it wasn't a complete failure at all.  I thought for awhile that M3 was going to leave me because I took SO LONG to get moving.  (Sorry, but there were tons of people where we were trying to get going and then there were loads of children in ski school.  Loads of children who were way better than me.  Whatever.)  In the end, though, made it up, made it back and forth and made it down the mountain.  (By "mountain," I mean "slight decline.")  We did the same slope a few more times (which took quite awhile,) and then decided to grab some lunch.

Note: If you're ever at Sugarloaf, I'd highly suggest Black Diamond Burrito.  It's a tiny place, no tables, just a bar, but absolutely delicious.

After lunch and a quick chat with M1 and Cousin, it was back to the slopes.  M3 and I grabbed our boards, walked to a lift, strapped our left feet in, took the lift up, fell off the lift (I never made it off a lift without falling) and sat down to strap righty in...  And my right binding it shot.  I debate for awhile whether I could make it down with half the binding (just one of the straps was broken,) but then remembered how very bad I was and figured that wouldn't be a good idea.  My option for getting down the mountain?  Snow patrol stretcher:

Totally embarrassing.  Even more ridiculous?  When I got a new binding, it was broken, too!  Finally, on binding number three, we were up and running again.  For one more run.  We both had uncomfortable falls on that run, and my knees were already quite swollen, and we decided to call it a day.

Saturday evening brought nothing interesting.  Other than two of my coworkers coming up to me and yelling, "Did I see you being carted down the mountain on a stretcher???"

Sunday brought outlet shopping, which was fine - not the best, but I found a few things I liked.  Including a silver wristlet from Coach.  Frankly, it's rare that I go into a Coach outlet and don't buy something.  Lack of willpower...

I made it home with lots of aches and bruises...  But all bones were in tact, making the weekend a huge success as compared to last year!